7:30AM — Sara just got up so she could ride into the city with Christian and Mara. I could be the third person squished in the back of their Mini but I want to sleep a little more.8:00AM — Sara just left. Snooze time.

8:15AM — Okay, time to get up.

9:24AM — After showering, getting dressed, eating my Cracklin’ Oat Bran and reading some of Snider’s movie reviews I guess it’s time I better leave. I usually roll into work about now but because it’s the transit strike and I have to walk, nobody really cares.

9:25AM — I talk to JT in the hallway and he has to get up to Midtown. Sucks for him, it’s 25 degrees outside.

9:25AM — Mapping my route I decide it would be best to take Flatbush to the Manhattan Bridge.

9:37 — Nearing downtown Brooklyn, it makes me grateful that I live among brownstones rather than big, ugly glass buildings with garbage all over the streets.

9:55 — After walking practically ALL MORNING I finally get to the bridge. The East River is my ocean.

10:05 — The view of downtown Manhattan, the Brooklyn Bridge and the Statue of Liberty is fantastic. I get the same view every day as I cross this bridge on the subway but I’m usually too busy rushing through The Book of Mormon (two more weeks left!!!) to take it all in.

10:07 — I shoot a picture of it on my phone and send it to Sara. She’ll smile.

10:15 — That took FOREVER!!! I’d definitely compare it to the Pacific Ocean rather than the puny Atlantic.

10:18 — I guess it WAS the Pacific Ocean because I think I’m in China. (Does China always have their nasty fish out this early in the morning?)

10:22 — All across Asia into Europe I’m now in Italy… though it seems much littler.

10:25 — Soho, finally. If I have to do this tomorrow I think I’m going to DIE!! Now I can say I totally understand what the Mormon pioneers suffered through.

Gee, Rusty, my transit strike experience is slightly different: I rolled out of bed at 8:59am, turned on my computer, connected to my office’s shared drives via super secret encoded connection and bam! I was at work. In my jammies, sipping OJ, no subway, no cold, no getting up at 6:00am, and instead of lunch, I had a nap. Moreover, no commute home!

I will admit that I sort of regret missing the adventures (looking on the bright side of life) that everyone else will be discussing over the water cooler when things get back to normal. I guess at least I’ll always have the Blackout of 2003 to look back on.

Life is sweet, for me, today, still in my jammies, although I sorta miss the intermittant low rumble of the F train from afar…one of the measures of life around here.

An hour? It took you an hour to walk to work? Wow, you either walk faster than I or you live a lot closer to Manhattan than I thought. It takes me about an hour to walk from home to work and I live in a city of 75,000.

Kim, is that 50 Celsius? I thought you Canucks were in the modern era, unlike us Yankees.

Rusty, you should tell Kaimi (see the link to this thread over at T&S) that just because you walked on Flatbush Avenue doesn’t necessarily mean that you’re in Flatbush. Those guys from Manhattan (and the Bronx and San Diego) just don’t know Brooklyn.

EmilyS, just wondering where you are, since the F Train runs (above ground) just down the street.

My commute, btw, was the same as usual. Get out of the shower, sit at desk. Clothing optional. Unless clients are coming.

EmilyS: Carroll Street. Look out the window on the right as you emerge from the underground–next time you’re riding the F out from the City, and you’ll see my house. It’s on the first or second street you can see once you clear the tunnel.

You lived through the blackout of 2003, Emily? That was an awesome one. I was on vacation at home that week, desperately trying to finish up a draft article that was getting sent out that fall. So I spent the blackout editing my law review article, by candlelight, until my laptop batteries died.

And then we took the kids outside and looked at the stars. It was great. That was the time that Jupiter was particularly close, and you could see it quite well.

And the next night, the kids asked us when we were going to have another blackout.

Mark,

Hey, I know a little bit about Brooklyn. I worked in Brooklyn for a year, after all. I got to know much of Brooklyn Heights pretty well; located the best bowl of Yankee bean soup near the courthouse; found some nice Middle Eastern places on Atlantic Avenue; shopped on Joralemon and at the little farmer’s market by the fountain; bought books by Borough Hall; made occasional forays into Cobble Hill and Dumbo; and of course ate pizza under the bridge. I weathered 9/11 at a friend’s house in Dumbo, and then took the A train home. And yes, I know where Flatbush is.

My problem isn’t lack of Brooklyn knowledge, but rather lack of Rusty knowledge. I’ve never been to his house and have very little idea where he lives (he may have told me; if so, I’ve forgotten). I sort of assumed that he was taking Flatbush Avenue from Flatbush. But of course, you’re right that he could be taking Flatbush Avenue from Park Slope or wherever.

I suppose I should have played it safe in the link and just said Brooklyn Heights, but that just didn’t sound colorful enough.

MarkB – Carroll Street, you lucky dog…. I had planned on moving up your way this year, and but at the last moment, we were offered a cheap, huge, rent-controlled apartment in our area and our frugal, planning-for-the-future Mormon selves just couldn’t pass up such an opportunity to pad the savings account. I deeply regret not being able to chill in the Park Slope ward with y’all.

Kaimi – Yes, the blackout was quite an adventure. It took me 10 hours to get home from the Upper West Side (primarily on foot), and included one of my favorite New York memories: As we were crossing Brooklyn Bridge, there was a man, calling out into the exhausted, crowded darkness with a megaphone: “Welcome home, Brooklyn. Everything will be all right,now. You’re home now, you’re in Brooklyn now. Welcome home, Brooklyn.” It was the first time I felt that perhaps Brooklyn really was home.

My commute today: Left the house in Montclair at 6:32, caught the 6:37 to Hoboken. Jumped on the ferry to Pier 11 at Wall Street at about 7:15. Arrived at my company’s gym at 7:30 and was running on the treadmill at 7:40.